


to have and to hold

by plantyourtreeswithme



Series: My Heart Belongs to the Spokane Breeze [2]
Category: Gandrew - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Quarantine, gandrew - Freeform, kind of a sickfic but only vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantyourtreeswithme/pseuds/plantyourtreeswithme
Summary: It's Andrew's turn.
Relationships: Andrew Siwicki/Garrett Watts
Series: My Heart Belongs to the Spokane Breeze [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760536
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	to have and to hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emeraldsapphic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsapphic/gifts).



> Something short and sweet for my darling Esme, because she's been having such a rough time of it lately.
> 
> Inspired by [Andrew's most recent quarantine update](https://cherryblossomwatts.tumblr.com/post/616011658761027584).

Andrew wakes, and can actually swallow without feeling like his throat is being set alight for the first time.

He flails around a little, reaching blindly for his phone on the nightstand next to their bed. The time is 3:52 PM.

He squints at the screen, scratches his bearded chin; turns the brightness down, because he's been in a mostly dark room for about a week now, and he isn't quite sure he's even fully awake yet.

He scrolls through the notifications he hasn't checked in days, smiling at a few texts from Garrett, looking at some tags on Instagram, taking note of a voicemail from Mom he'll have to listen to when he's feeling completely lucid.

The pillow is cool against his cheek as he turns off his phone, wiggles around, and turns over on his side to face Garrett and tell him good morning.

Garrett is not there.

Andrew sighs a little, at the fact that he's going to have to leave the comfort of the bed to go look for Garrett - but he gets up anyway. Lets his legs - which almost creak and whine at the sudden movement, weak from their disuse for the past several days - hang off the edge of the mattress for a second.

He rakes a hand through his undoubtedly abysmal hair, wincing at the knots his fingers encounter as he does so. He'll have to shower later today, if he's still feeling up for it. Maybe he can get Garrett to join him.

He shuffles over to the dresser in his boxers, with the intention of getting dressed in his own clothes and making himself look presentable in front of Garrett's dad. This undertaking, however, was doomed from the start, as he realizes the most accessible clothes at the very top of the first drawer belong to his boyfriend. And he is too sick (read: lazy) to go digging around in the other compartments.

Garrett's gray sweater dwarfs him, hugs his arms as he pushes his hands through the sleeves with little grace. He contemplates going out into the house without any pants on - the shirt drapes over his thighs, a fact he relishes - but then thinks better of it, pulling on some joggers and managing not to fall over in the process.

The Spokane sunlight, streaming through the house's broad windows, is overwhelming, and he has to close his eyes for a moment, adjusting after existing in darkness for so very long. When he opens them again, he finds Garrett sitting on the couch in the living room, an untouched bowl of soggy cereal on the coffee table in front of him.

An awful sound comes out of Andrew's mouth, and he blushes immediately, embarrassed at the harshness of his raw, unused voice. Thankfully, Garrett doesn't hear him, distracted as he is by the phone in his hands.

"Garr?" Andrew croaks, tries again. This time, words come out - and Garrett hears, moves his head to look at Andrew. Not whipping around the way Andrew'd expected; he just turns at a moderate pace, sees him, and gives him a slight smile.

"Hey," he says. "Glad to see you out and about."

Andrew's heart staggers at the sadness in his tone. He pads forward, bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. Garrett frowns as he approaches - again, the opposite reaction Andrew had hoped for.

"You're not still feverish, are you?" he asks, reaching out to touch Andrew's forehead with the back of his hand. Andrew lets him, grinning a little when Garrett seems relieved, satisfied, that he's back to a normal temperature. As if he has something to prove to Garrett, coming out here and showing off his recovery.

"Your throat still hurt?"

"Mm. A little," Andrew murmurs. He slides onto the couch cushions, snuggling up to Garrett and flushing a little when the taller man immediately wraps his arm around him, pulling him into his side and squeezing his shoulder lightly. Garrett's warmth more than makes up for the loss of their bed's downy comforter, and he cozies up against him, breathing in his musk and suddenly feeling a lot less sick. Garrett reaches up to drag his fingers through Andrew's curly, unkempt hair; presses a kiss to Andrew's head as he tucks his face deep into the crook of Garrett's neck.

"Are you okay?" he mumbles, lips brushing gently against Garrett's skin.

"Yeah," Garrett says (an obvious lie), then moves to get up from the couch. "I'm gonna go get you some water, baby -"

"Garrett," Andrew interrupts him. Long-dormant anxiety - quelled by the peace and safety of their quarantine - flares in his gut, and he feels his stomach buckle. "Is it something I did?"

" _No_ , Andrew, honey, of _course_ not," Garrett tells him emphatically. He leans back against the sofa, hand running up and down Andrew's arm, and Andrew stills.

"What is it?" he asks softly. He reaches up and touches Garrett's jaw, tilting his face gently so he'll look at him.

"Iwanokisyou," Garrett says, and the speed at which he speaks evokes a giggle from Andrew that burns in the back of his throat.

"What?" he coughs out, breathless.

"I said, I want to _kiss_ you," Garrett chuckles. "Especially when you look at me like that."

"You know I can't, baby."

"Mmmmm..."

"Don't want to get you sick. And that's not what's wrong," Andrew says, caressing Garrett's cheek. "You know you can't hide anything from me."

Garrett withers, leans into Andrew's touch. "It's just... it was just. Um."

Andrew smiles sweetly at him, marvels at how thick and long Garrett's beard is growing.

"Um," Garrett says again. He covers Andrew's hand on his cheek with his own. "I just. Shane put some spam on Instagram for an anniversary. Or something. And he posted a picture of all of us, and. Uh. Tagged me in it. And I know that it's not really rational to -"

"Garr," Andrew keens. He leans forward and presses their foreheads together. "Baby. I love you so much. You don't have to feel guilty for being upset."

"I know, but -"

"Sweetheart. Let yourself be sad. You're allowed."

"Andrew -"

"No," Andrew says firmly, pulling away and clasping Garrett's hand tightly in his own. "Let me take care of you. You've been helping me get better for over a week now."

"Honey, you're still sick -"

"It's my turn, Garrett."

And finally, Garrett relents; lets Andrew lead him out to the back deck and sit him down in a comfy lawn chair. Andrew makes their favorite tea using Garrett's dad's kettle - sets it out, steaming, on the glass table in front of them and mixes in the honey; retrieves their little pill speaker from the bedroom and scrolls through Spotify on Garrett's phone until he finds their playlist.

Joanie Sommers croons softly as Andrew wraps a blanket around Garrett's shoulders and settles down next to him. "It's not much," he says. "I know it's not much. But I want to help you any way I can."

Garrett doesn't look at him, his skin - his bare arms - warm and golden in the afternoon light. Andrew sees his chest rise and fall, feels him breathe deep the crisp Washington air - like nothing Andrew's ever tasted before.

The pine trees whisper and rustle behind them, tickled by the breeze; and finally, Garrett says quietly, "It's everything, Andrew."

He turns to face him, and smiles like he's just as much in love as Andrew is. "You're everything. Every little thing you do means... everything to me. Even if it seems like nothing to you."

Andrew reaches behind Garrett, touching his back gently and resting his head on Garrett's shoulder. "I love you," he says. "Anything I can do to help you, I will. Always."

Garrett closes his eyes; kisses Andrew's cheek tenderly, his breath sweet with the scent of chamomile.

"We have a lot to make up for once you're done being sick, Siwicki," he says as he draws away, and Andrew just smiles; holds the love of his life in his arms and swears never to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please [follow me on Tumblr](https://cherryblossomwatts.tumblr.com)! I'm always delighted to talk about Andrew and Garrett, or write about them - so feel free to [shoot me an ask](https://cherryblossomwatts.tumblr.com/ask) if you'd like!!
> 
> Also, here's [the lovely Joanie Sommers song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJBjBek7qbM) that Garrett really does love.
> 
> And finally, I adore receiving feedback on my work - please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
